Naked pizza on the porch
It’s almost 9:30a.m. And my kids are still sleeping after a long day at the ball field celebrating Dry’s championship, (Great job, buddy. We are so, so proud of you!) followed by hurrying home to stuff pizza in our face in time to walk to our spot to watch the fireworks. I’m exhausted. And I know they have to be. They ran and played and ran some more, all day, until almost midnight. The latest they’ve ever been allowed to stay up. Ever. Because if they don’t get enough sleep, they’re nightmares. They get it honest, I’ll admit. I definitely need at least 8 GOOD hours of sleep, but I could go way, way longer if given the opportunity. I’m a marathon sleeper. Some like to run. I like to sleep. So imagine my surprise when, after hearing them at 6:05, and dragging my body into their room, getting them a fresh cup of milk, and tucking them back in, I go back to bed and fall asleep again myself. I open my eyes and look at my phone, expecting it to be in the 7:00 range, to see the number NINE